


Right By Your Side

by MyChemicalFallOutBoyRomance



Category: Comics Industry RPF, Frank Iero and the Patience, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alpha Grant Morrison, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Domestic Fluff, Drabble, Established Relationship, Ficlet, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, I'm Sorry, M/M, Mates, Mpreg, Nesting, No Smut, Omega Frank Iero, Omega Verse, Omegaverse, One Shot, Pregnancy, Short One Shot, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-22 23:48:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19139317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyChemicalFallOutBoyRomance/pseuds/MyChemicalFallOutBoyRomance
Summary: Grant really needs that shirt.





	Right By Your Side

**Author's Note:**

> Hi sweeties,
> 
> Just a quick fic today, inspired by one of Ry’s tweets (shocking, right?) if you haven’t found us on Twitter then come say hi (@MCFOBR & @rylescoe) there’s always some kind of fic conversation going on!!

Grant takes another quick look along the wall of perfectly pressed sleeves even though he knows it’s pointless; the shirt isn’t there. He can’t hold back the sigh and, running a hand over his head, he turns to leave his dressing room.

“Frankie?”

Grant knows his omega will be right where he left him; it’s impossible to see into their four poster bed since sheets are draped down every side like some child’s play fort, but that’s where Frank will be. There’s a light snuffling sound that confirms Grant’s suspicions. Trying to keep his mate as calm as possible, Grant slips through the tiniest gap in the sheets he can manage into the nest of blankets and seemingly random articles of Grant’s clothing.

“Frank, love?”

The omega is awake but only just. Frank is curled on his side, one tattooed arm cradling his giant stomach, tiny white briefs just visible under his belly. And his face is pressed against exactly what Grant is looking for.

“Alpha?” Frank’s eyes are bleary and his voice rough with sleep.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry, I didn’t want to wake you.” Frank nods slightly without lifting his head and one eye starts to shut. “But, Frankie, I… can I borrow my shirt?”

“Hmmph?”

“Frank, focus, love,” the mild ring of Alpha in the words gets Frank’s attention, eyes almost fully open and looking right into Grant’s. “I need to borrow my shirt. That one.”

Frank looks down at where Grant’s extended finger is pointing and frowns a little.

“This one?” There’s more than a hint of sorrow in Frank’s tone as he stares mournfully at the material.

“Yes. It’s the only one I have in that shade, the only one that works with the tie I need to wear to impress the board. So can I borrow it? Please?”

Frank’s lips flit through a range of motions and finally settle on a soft pout. There’s a look of regret in his eyes but indecision too.

“Will I get it back?” Frank whispers, barely daring to look up at his Alpha.

“Of course, love. The very second I get home it’s yours.”

“Not just mine,” Frank’s hand wanders over his stretched skin, “the babies like it too… they’ll miss it.”

The breath catches in Grant’s throat and his whole body freezes. Frank is still watching the shirt like it might suddenly disappear without his consent so he doesn’t notice. It’s not long before the warmth spreading through Grant spurs him into action.

“How about a trade, sweetheart?” Grant is incredibly grateful the thickness of his throat isn’t audible in his voice.

“A trade?”

Grant shuffles backwards out of the nest and scoops up his pajama pants from the floor where he stepped out of them earlier. He’s pretty sure it’ll be enough to placate Frank.

“These?” Grant stretches his arm out once he’s back on the bed. “I wore them last night… without underwear.”

There’s a brief sparkle in Frank’s eyes before his lips lift up into Grant’s favourite half smile. The reluctance has all but dissolved when he takes hold of the shirt and transfers it into Grant’s care, the pajama pants quickly replacing it.

“Thank you, love.” Grant leans over and kisses Frank’s temple. There’s a satisfied sound that floats out of the omega before he buries his face in the crotch of his new pillow.

Grant’s still chucking when he gets out of their bed. Buttons fastened, he runs his hands down the front to chase away any creases and… oh, he’s gonna need a waistcoat to cover that drool patch.

 


End file.
